


Not-Really-Sick-Days

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Basically His Kid, Gen, I'll add more tags later, Implied Ironstrange, Irondad is Overprotective, Kidnapping, Kind of Fluffy but Not That Much, May Knows Peter Is Spider-Man, Peter is A Good Child, Peter is Like, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), So it's good, They Get Him Back Though, Tony Stark is Irondad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:57:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Peter loses his powers for a little while, and it might be a little hard to handle.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter groaned, waking up to the harsh lights of Mr. Stark's little medical room. The sterile gray ceiling stared back, the recessed white lights blinding. What had happened?

And then the memories hit him like a truck.

_He had been on his patrol, about to go home on the summer night, when a little rustle and flash of yellow caught his attention. He had to go after it; after all, that was his job. Most of the time, bright yellow outfits weren't common in Queens. So he did what anyone would do. He went after it. 1:28 AM._

_(He'd have to get home before two, though. May would ban him from patrol if he wasn't back home in thirty minutes.)_

_Slipping around the corner of a building, he made his way into an alley. It was dark, behind a grubby old apartment complex that was going to be demolished. Still, Yellow Shirt had definitely come this way, right? Speaking of which, Peter's spider-sense was starting to go nuts. There was this electrified feeling crawling up his arms. It was just the paranoia from being awake so late. Right. That had to be it. 1:31 AM._

_And then the almost-inperceptible whoosh of something slicing through the air made it clear something was flying at the back of Peter's head, too quick to react to. It was a bat or something wooden, and it hit hard. He blacked out. 1:32 AM._

_He came back to consciousness at 3:34, according to the clock on the nearby wall. Peter looked around, but it was just a plain, grubby white room with a pile of rocks in the corner. He was on a stretcher of some sort, also dirty white._

_Oh,_ shit, _he wasn't wearing his mask. He in an old, oversized t-shirt, with shorts like the ones he changed into for gym class. He noticed a cheap Hello Kitty bandage on his left forearm. A shot of some sort, probably._ Is it a Hello Kitty bandage?  _he wondered, squinting. It was kind of blurry._

 _Peter was Spider-Man! He dealt with other peoples' kidnappings. He wasn't supposed to get kidnapped himself. Vaguely, he remembered something May had said about it. Something about "staying put" and "the adults would come get him." That was right! Mr. Stark would probably get here soon. Keyword soon. Soon wasn't enough, though. What if they decided to do something to him? What if he died? This wasn't good, this was_ not good _\--_

_"Chill out," he whispered hoarsely to himself, running his right hand through his hair. His head felt like it was running into overdrive. He'd sort this out logically, with logic, without jumping to conclusions. Logic._

_He had to get up, figure something out, do something. Maybe it would be like the movies. There was always something written on the wall that offered a clue... right? But he knew what was wrong the moment he placed his feet on the ground._

_Peter's legs buckled, and he fell onto the floor, hitting his numb arm in the process._ Ouch, that hurts.

_Try to get back up, that was the smart move. Peter was tired, though, all of a sudden. Really tired._

And then he was here, in another stretcher. This one was black, though, so there was that difference.

A figure he assumed was Mr. Stark strolled in. Peter's vision was blurry, though. Not the kind of blurry that was accompanied with a headache, though. Just the bad-eyesight kind of blurry. Before he had gotten the spider bite, Peter had really bad vision. 20/70, he recalled.  _I am not losing my vision again, those contacts were so uncomfortable--_

"Kid, you're awake."

That was definitely Mr. Stark. The voice was muffled, as though it was underwater. 

May was going to kill him.

* * *

Tony had used the tracker in Peter's suit to find him. 

He burst into the grubby apartment, wearing his armor, ready to fight, when _absolutely nothing happened._

No one there. Just a stretcher in an off-white room. Nothing on the walls, nothing on the ceiling, nothing on the door (which was also white). Twelve rocks were piled neatly in the corner of the room, not a huge contrast to the dirty white floor.

But then he walked around to the other side of the room to see Peter on the floor, propped up against one side of the stretcher, with his suit gone. The kid looked asleep, but that probably wasn't the case.

4:30 AM.

Lifting ~~his kid~~ Peter, Tony slowly walked out, listening to F.R.I.D.A.Y prattle on about the kid's vitals. It was a long flight back to the compound.

And during the flight, _nothing happened._ It was unnerving, and while Tony was glad that Peter wasn't hurt, he did not like it one bit that nothing was happening.

And they made it thirty minutes later. Bruce said something about how he didn't have a Ph.D. in this subject or something, but he was the only one who knew the kid's identity, so he got to work regardless. After a while, he said something about how the kidnappers injected something into Peter and that they could get it out in an hour. Tony didn't watch.

When Bruce called him and told him to come in, he expected Peter to be asleep. To his surprise, however, Peter was rubbing his eyes, mumbling something incoherent under his breath.

"Kid, you're awake," Tony said, relieved.

"Alright, Tony, the kid's fine. Before the shot, he got a minor concussion, but it's already healed. I got almost all the stuff out of his system, but I'll have to study the substance for a while to figure out what it is and what it does.  He might have some side effects, though. It looks like he might be without his spider powers for a little bit." Bruce explained.

"Mmmph-- who's that?" Peter asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"You should recognize him. Didn't you fangirl over his studies on radiation for hours--" Tony started.

"Oh, it's- it's Mr-uh, Doctor Banner--uh, hi! Nice to meet you? I didn't know- sorry," Peter stuttered nervously, shooting a _look_ at Tony. "Sorry, I didn't, um, recognize you."

He got up now, moving slower than usual, Tony noticed, but didn't say anything.

"You feeling okay?" Bruce asked, seeming a bit concerned.

"I'm feeling fine." Peter assured him, but he looked more jittery than usual.

"Good. Now, just go to sleep and we'll deal with stuff in the morning. Tones, did you call his aunt? She's probably worried."

"I got it over with. She's letting him stay over for the next few days." Tony turned to Peter. "You're on summer vacation, right? You'll be fine."

"Fine," the kid echoed, rubbing his eyes again. "Yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't that sure about this, but tell me what you think in the comments!


	2. Day 1

"You okay?" Tony asked when Peter walked out of his room. He was disheveled, his hair impossibly messy, with rogue curls all over the place. He was wearing the Hello Kitty pajamas Ned bought him as a  _joke,_ good god. He rubbed his eyes vigorously.

"I'm good, Mr. Stark," Peter mumbled. "It's just really disorienting."

"I think you'll get over it. The rest of us normal people walk around like this all the time."

Peter nodded, rubbing his eyes again.  _Seriously? Does he have some sort of vision problem?_

"Y'know, I'm gonna go shower and afterwards have some breakfast? I'm a bit hungry." the kid said, not making eye contact.

"Oh, that's right," Tony said, laughing, pretending not to notice. "You don't have that super metabolism, so you'll eat like a normal person."

"Mmhmm."

* * *

It took Peter around 40 minutes to walk into the kitchen. That was a ridiculously long time. Whatever the reason, there was cereal and coffee for breakfast since Tony would probably set the kitchen on fire if he attempted to cook anything. Peter wasn't going to drink the coffee, so Tony went ahead and found orange juice from the fridge just as the kid walked into the room. 

Peter definitely looked more awake now, but his movements were still sluggish compared to the usual nervous energy. He was alert-looking, at the very least, so it wasn't too bad. "Hey, kid," Tony said, turning around from his seat.

"Hey, Mr. Stark. I haven't been this tired since the night I took down-- oh, wow. Is that-- cereal?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused. Like, confused, confused. Like, he couldn't tell if the blatantly cereal-shaped box with the words  _Raisin Bran_ emblazoned on the front was cereal or something else. "Am I dreaming?" he added hastily. Pretending sarcasm.

"Stand right there and tell me what brand it is." Tony told him, not getting up but managing to stare him down. A trick he'd learned from Pepper.

"Cheerios...?" Peter muttered, discreetly squinting at the box.

"It's Raisin Bran. What's wrong with your vision?"

"I, um, have really bad eyesight," Peter said, backing away as Tony finally got up. "It's seriously nothing, I swear, it's fine, it'll go away when I get my powers back--"

"What's your prescription?"

"20/70," the kid whispered, looking down.

_"What?"_

Tony was pissed. Against the kid's embarrassed begging, he marched down to the nearest shop and bought the glasses himself, grinning proudly at the kid's red face when he returned.

* * *

 Peter walked around just fine now with the glasses, but there were a host of other problems: one of which being that Peter had grown to depend on his sticky fingers far too much. Peter was constantly dropping things. He dropped one of Tony's mugs, three books, his glasses case, the toothpaste bottle, his phone, and a few other items that Tony didn't even bother to account for. A spider's ability to stick to surfaces gave Peter a death grip on anything he tried to hold, so naturally to adapt, Peter loosely hung onto anything he needed to hold. Of course, this habit proved incredibly inconvenient in this instance.

"Sorry, Mr. Stark!" Peter yelped, frantically picking up the pile of books that had slipped out of his hands.

He lowered his head and shuffled off without another word after Tony helped him pick them up.

* * *

On the bright side, Peter wasn't wearing a jacket of any kind around the tower. Peter was always cold. It made sense, of course; spiders can't thermoregulate.

Tony didn't draw attention to the bruises and cuts that hadn't healed, seeing how gloomy Peter already was.

* * *

The kid disappeared into his room at 4:30 and didn't come out till the next day.


End file.
